


Prince and Princess of Dragonstone

by Urrax



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aunt/Nephew Incest, Cheating, F/M, Incest, Jon Snow/Margaery Tyrell - arranged marriage (not a romance), Jonerys AU, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urrax/pseuds/Urrax
Summary: Margaery Tyrell had believed the day was hers. Her family had successfully petitioned the King to honor his promise of a wedding despite the death of the Crown Prince and she had wed Prince Jonothor in Aegon's place. Despite her victory, the unique pull the Targaryens have on one another cannot be denied.





	Prince and Princess of Dragonstone

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning there is cheating and smut ahead. The story has a fair bit of backstory before the smut but I thought it would add valuable context to the situation. 
> 
> And this story has been inspired by a number of stories that have Jon marrying Daenerys and falling in love with another woman *cough* Sansa *cough* so I wanted to do something different and have Daenerys be Jon's true love. 
> 
> There is no romantic tag for Jon and Margaery but the arranged marriage tag does apply here. You have been warned.
> 
> P.S. The smut scene is a bit incesty.

**Margaery Tyrell**

**301 AC**

Today the air could not taste sweeter. It was the taste of victory. Victory for her herself, her family and their legacy. No longer could the Tyrells be looked down upon as being a family born from stewards. For she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms… almost.

Banners flapped in the light breeze. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen was prominently displayed, bright red on a field of black but the golden roses of House Tyrell added color and livened the display. Banners of the lesser houses were there as well. Red Ants, gilded apples, leaping foxes, sable feathers, snarling wyverns, crimson pomegranates… it was all she had ever dreamed. The power and beauty of the Reach was on full display and she was the reason for it all.

If she were being honest though, today was not so quite perfect. Her husband left something to be desired. He was pretty to be sure… enough so that Loras had admitted his own jealousy but he was a poor trade for his late brother.

Aegon had been a gift from the gods themselves. Tall, purple eyed and beautiful. With flowing silver hair that she had implored him to never cut and a body that could be mistaken as an edifice for the warrior himself. He had smiled easily, played the harp well enough to bring her to _real_ tears and the kisses he stole, she gave them gladly. Jonothor, or as those close to him called him, Jon, had inherited seemingly none of his father’s traits. His face was long, his eyes were so dark they could be mistaken for black and even his hair lacked the distinctive Targaryen silver. Instead it was a far tamer brown. He had a beard where Aegon had been clean shaven and if her husband smiled she had seen no evidence of it.

He had not smiled when they formally met as each other’s betrothed. He had not smiled the during the entirety of their admittedly short courtship. Her attempts to connect with him, to joke or make inquires of his mother’s homeland in the far North had been met with a face that could at best be described as impassive. Jon had not even smiled when she had met him in the Sept of Baelor, in front of the watchful eyes of the Great Lords of Westeros. Her husband had taken one look at her dress of emerald and gold, carefully designed with Myrish lace, silk from Yi TI and worked by the finest Volantene dress makers and said their vows with all the zeal of a man swearing himself to the Night’s Watch.

Even as they sat at the Tourney grounds, in the seat of high honor, above King Rhaegar himself, Jon had barely looked at her.

“ _My Dearest?_ ” Margaery asked him, with her sweetest voice. She leaned against his arm, intentionally so that his eyes would be drawn to the cleavage she had on full display.

Jon’s eyes briefly took her bait and for a moment they roved over her form and she knew her husband saw her as a sexual being. “Yes?” Jon asked, when he met her eyes. To her frustration they did not stray.

“Would you like wine?” She asked, noticing his goblet was empty. Jon blinked and then nodded, reaching for his cup. “Please.” She interrupted. “Let me.” She stood and poured his wine for him. In her peripheral she could again see her husband again take a glance at her dress. Silently she thanked her grandmother for her insistence on such extravagance. The dress was so thin, and so form fitting that it could be mistaken for a Dornish design.

When she sat she could not keep the smile from her face. “Thank you, my lady.” Her husband muttered, and she noticed the flush on his neck when she pressed against his side.

“I am your lady wife my lord. I look forward to being of _service_ to you for all my days to come.” She whispered into his ear. This close to him she took the opportunity to squeeze his arm. _At least his body is not a disappointment. There is hope yet._

No sooner than the thought had crossed her mind, she felt her husband stiffen. Curious to see what had brought his reaction she looked across the yard and then grit her teeth. It was obvious who had stolen her husband’s attention.

The approaching woman was undeniably, frustratingly beautiful. Her arms were bare, highlighting toned muscle and pale skin. Silver hair spilled past her shoulders and down her back in elaborate braids. A simple crown of gold sat on her head, above lilac eyes and full lips. Her dress was a striking red and black with a slit along one leg that parted with each step she took. And her gait was graceful, almost predatorial.

“Hello Daenerys.” King Rhaegar spoke, he stood from his seat and kissed the hand of his younger sister. They looked more akin to father and daughter and indeed Rhaegar was old enough and Daenerys had been raised alongside his three children.

Princess Daenerys spoke to her brother for a time before making her way to her and Jon. The princess passed right by Jon to greet Margaery. “Lady Margaery you look lovely. I extend my congratulations.” Her smile was bright, beautiful and almost fooled Margaery in to believing it to be genuine.

_Lady Margaery, I am a princess now or have you forgotten?_ “Thank you, Princess, and please call me Margaery. We are almost sisters now, you and I. Family should have some familiarity.”

Daenerys smiled in answer but notably did not acknowledge her request. Her pretty eyes slid over to Jon. “Nephew, you should learn to smile. Your wife does look beautiful.”

If possible, even more joy left Jon’s face and his expression became as hard and as impassive as ice. He did not answer his aunt but neither did he turn away.

“I wish you both good fortune in the days to come.” Daenerys said and then she turned away without a backwards glance. Margaery noticed multiple sets of eyes follow the swish of the woman’s hips, most notably her husband’s own.

Daenerys returned to her ladies-in-waiting and the jousts soon begun. The smallfolk were roaring with each list and Margaery added her own applause whenever her brothers took the field. Willas and Garlan rode admirably and both with her favor but Loras was where she hedged her bets. Only a fool would crown someone else Queen and Love and Beauty on her wedding day but the Dornish had many knights participating and the Kingsguard were as likely to crown the princesses as much as herself.

To her dismay Garlan broke six lances before being knocked from the saddle by a hedge knight. Willas fell later in the list and this time with no dishonor as he was unhorsed by Ser Arthur Dayne, The Sword of the Morning. Loras was magnificent. He had unhorsed six knights, amongst them: Ser Robar Royce who wore Bronze armor engraved with runes said to protect him from any harm, Ser Guyard Morrigan who himself had unhorsed Ser Barristan Selmy, and Domeric Bolton.

Her husband frowned at that. Domeric was amongst his closest companions, a childhood friend from his days spent in the North. Margaery smiled secretly and clapped as Loras helped Domeric to his feet.

The day grew long as the knights battered each other but it did not lack for excitement. Some of the realms best warriors were competing on the Tourney ground. Ser Jaime Lannister unhorsed his sworn brother Ser Oswell Whent and the monster of a man, Ser Gregor Clegane, known as the _Mountain Who Rides_ drove his lance so hard into the chest of Ser Addam Marbrand that the fallen knight had to be carried away on a stretcher.

Drums boomed as the number of undefeated knights dwindled. Ser Jaime fell before her brother and Margaery cheered as loud commoner. Realizing her mistake, she fought to compose herself but when she looked to her husband he flashed her a polite smile. He cheered louder than her when his cousin, Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell, unhorsed a big landed knight from Tarth. The Northmen added to his cheers with whoops and whistles that sounded akin to beasts.

_“Stark! Stark!”_ The Northmen cried, and Jon added to their crescendo, genuine joy on his face.

_He is much prettier when he smiles._ Margaery realized. The Northmen were silenced when Robb Stark fell to the Dark Knight of Dorne. Despite their victory the Dornish were subdued when Ser Gerold Dayne rode his victory lap. Their cheers were unneeded for when Ser Gerold removed his helm a bevy of female sighs and lewd shouts filled the stands. His finely chiseled face and silver hair reminded her of Aegon. A pang of longing raced through her heart. She brushed the feeling away. _I will be a queen. A mother to a dynasty. One brother is not so different than the other._

Ser Arthur Dayne broke twelve lances against Ser Gregor Clegane and after each one the crowd’s excitement grew until it was in a fevre.

_“Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!”_ The crowd chanted, and a roar of approval broke out when the men unhorsed. The victor would be decided by sword not lance. Squires ran to give each man tourney swords. Both men chose blunted, two-handed great swords. The Mountain’s blade was near as tall as her.

“Your bet is on whom?” Margaery asked. She made sure to lean in to Jon so that she could place a hand on his knee to balance herself.

Her husband looked caught off guard. “S…Ser Arthur” He stuttered.

“I do not know. Some would say size does matter. Would you not agree?” She asked with a bat of her eyelashes.

“Ser Arthur is the greatest swordsman of this era. The Mountain’s height will not aid him.” Jon answered, seemingly missing her innuendo completely.

Margaery nearly sighed in frustration. Her husband was correct however. Ser Arthur’s swordplay made even Garlan look akin to a boy playing with sticks. The Mountain’s size and prodigious strength were made a mockery as Ser Arthur drove him to the dirt in a flurry of blows.

Loras unhorsed the last Kingsguard knight save for Ser Arthur, Ser Jonothor Darry. There were four knights remaining: her brother, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Gerold Dayne and her betrothed’s cousin, Daemon Targaryen, first and only son of Prince Daeron Targaryen and Cersei Lannister.

The cheers of had been loud for all the competitors but there were loudest of all for Prince Daemon. _“Star eyes!”_ The crowd chanted, and Daemon rode to the commoners, allowing those in the front to brush hands against his armor and blazing white horse. He wore armor of blazing crimson with winged lions engraved on the pauldrons. His helm was the shape of some great chimera, half lion and half dragon, snarling, terrible and magnificent. The face plate was up but Margaery was too far to glimpse him. By memory she could recall his eyes, swirling orbs of emerald and amethyst that glowed akin to polished gems in the sun.

Worry seated itself in her chest when Prince Daemon took his place at the end of the list opposite of her brother. For once Loras’ gilded armor and cloak of flowers did not look so extravagant. The horn blew and then the horses were racing to each other. Loras’ lance was steady, and his shield was held high. Daemon crossed the midway point a second faster and the shower of splinters that followed their impact caused Margaery to jump from her seat. Her brother shifted in his saddle, desperately trying to right himself and then he fell. The prince rose a hand in victory.

Her husband clapped but did not add his voice to the crescendo. King Rhaegar looked as subdued as his son and Jon leaned into his father. They spoke in hushed whispers.

_Dragons are their own worst enemy._ Margaery remembered her grandmother’s words. Prince Daeron and Prince Viserys sat apart from the King and his heir. Just as her marriage secured the loyalty of the Reach to the throne, Daeron’s marriage to Cersei Lannister and his younger brother’s marriage to their eldest daughter firmly tied the other dragons to the might of West. The enmity between the two factions in the Targaryen family was palpable.

A hush fell over the crowd when the two Daynes took to the field. They stood in contrast to one another. Ser Arthur in polished white armor the shade of milk glass and his house’s coat of arms: a white sword crossed a falling star on lilac. Ser Gerold wore black armor with a dark purple cloak and black star blazed on his chest.

Ser Gerold rode his horse restlessly in circles while Ser Arthur’s mount kicked nervously at the dirt. “Would you like to settle this with swords Cousin?” Ser Gerold yelled from across the list

Jon snorted in derision.

“This is a joust cousin, I believe we should stick to the activity that you at have a chance at besting me.” Arthur replied and then he lowered his face plate. Gerold sneered but lowered his face plate as well. When the horn blew it was quiet. The first clashed nearly unhorsed Gerold from his seat but he righted himself before he could fall. The second ended in a shower of splinters as both lances exploded against shields. Drums boomed in time with the beat of the horses’ gallop. Gerold leaned forward and Arthur sat high until they drew closer.

The crash of their lances sent a shiver down her spine. Arthur’s connected on Gerold’s shoulder while Gerold’s lance was aimed high and struck Arthur in his face plate.

Jon shot to his feet when Arthur fell as did the King. Gerold rode away from his fallen cousin, victorious and seemingly unconcerned for his wellbeing. Arthur was slow to climb to his feet but when he did a cheer leapt from the crowd, much louder than one following Gerold’s victory.

“Perhaps now Arthur will believe age affects us all.” The King said to his son.

“I doubt that.” Jon replied.

A brief recess was called to give the remaining two combatants time to prepare. Margaery glanced around the high table. She and Jon sat at the center with the King to his direct right. Princess Daenerys sat further right amongst her ladies-in-waiting, most notable of them being Sansa Stark of Winterfell and Laena Velayron. Margaery’s gaze lingered for a moment on Laena. The girl had been rumored to be one of Aegon’s known lovers and was amongst the first to see her betrothed’s body when Jon returned to Driftmark with his brother’s corpse. She was not so striking as Daenerys but that did not mean much amongst women of Valyrian descent. _Your dream of being Queen died with Aegon. Mine did not._ Margaery flashed a smile when the girl met her gaze.

To her left sat the dragons of the west. Prince Daeron was built an inch shorter than his older brother but thicker and more muscular as well. His wife and two daughters sat around him, a mix of gold and silver hair while the youngest of King Aerys’ male children, Prince Viserys, sat next to his brother. They spoke in excited tones. The only Targaryen absent from the joust was Princess Rhaenys, King Rhaegar’s eldest child. Quite the scandal had been raised when Rhaenys fled to Essos despite her impending marriage to the heir of Storm’s End.

The horns blew again, and the last two combatants mounted their horses. Prince Daemon was the clear favorite and Margaery watched as Prince Daeron and Cersei Lannister took to their feet to cheer. The entire Lannister procession followed and then the entire host of the west. Her left ear was briefly deafened.

This time Dorne cheered loudly for Ser Gerold though it was likely to spite the Lannisters. Many remembered how Prince Daeron and the West sat idly as Rhaegar raised a coup against his father. Elia Martell of Dorne was burned in spite as King Aerys’ final act.

Prince Daemon and Gerold broke six lances against each other before the Dornishman fell from his horse. The sound of his crash was lost in the raucous cheer that followed. Daemon removed his helm and long silver-gold locks were unleashed. Ladies swooned, and some collapsed to the dirt when the Prince flashed his smile. Even Margaery’s heart quickened.   _I must not appear to be too pleased when he crowns me._ She reminded herself.

Daemon collected a crown of flowers from a page. _A crown of Winter Roses._ Margaery realized. She spared a glance at King Rhaegar, but his face was as impassive as his son’s. Daemon rode past the dragons and Lannisters to her left and she saw his sister’s face fall. He rode past their table and Margaery swallowed back the frustrated scream she wanted to release. When he stopped at the table to her right and dropped the crown of Winter roses into the lap of Princess Daenerys, a snap of wood greeted her ears. To her surprise, Jon had clenched his hand so hard that he had broken the end of his chair’s armrest.

When Daenerys placed the crown of flowers on her head, a dark cloud descended on Jon’s face. For a moment he looked akin to the image she had of the ancient Kings of Winter that her Septa had scared her with as a girl. The anger was gone a second later but now Margaery knew.

Jon had been an enigma to even her grandmother. He had spent his formative years in the North, far away from the machinations of the south with only his Kingsguard escort, Ser Arthur Dayne himself, to remind those of his royal status. When Jon returned from the North at the age of twelve he had spent the majority of his next years on Dragonstone with his siblings and his aunt. He had not left the isle even when Aegon had came to visit her in Highgarden.

_“Tell me of your brother.” She had asked Aegon on one of their walks through the maze surrounding Highgarden._

_“Smart, quiet and dutiful.” Aegon had answered. Even now she remembered the way his hands brushed against her sides as he kissed down her neck. Her father had his household guard escort them, exactly to prevent the Prince from taking liberties but Aegon had glared them into silence._

_“That does not tell me much. What is he like? What are his interests? Does he play the harp like yourself?” She had wanted to learn every mystery of her betrothed. Aegon was her great conquest and she meant to be his perfect Queen._

_Aegon laughed. “You are likely to find my brother with either a book in his hand or a sword. I don’t think he’s ever touched an instrument.”_

_“That sounds boring.” She admitted and pushed him away when his lips drew too close to her breast._

_Aegon grabbed her hand to pull her back to him, spinning her before she could protest. “My brother will make an excellent Hand. He’s smarter than me and do not ever tell him this but better with a sword as well. United there is no one who could defeat us.”_

Instead Aegon had died. In his brother’s arms to be exact. Killed chasing pirates off the coast of Massey’s Hook. _You neglected to tell me that he was in love with his aunt as well._ Margaery mused.

The mood was ruined after that. Jon did not smile once at their feast. In fact, he scowled when Daenerys sat next to Daemon at the feast. As customary they took to the dance floor for the first time as husband and wife. Margaery hoped she hid her disappointment as Jon did not dance as well as his brother. He moved with grace to be sure but there was no enthusiasm in his steps. And when Daemon and Daenerys took the floor, Jon nearly stumbled.

_“To the bed with them!”_ The Northmen cried, and the southerners joined in the revelry. A thrill of excitement ran through Margaery then. She knew she was not her husband’s preferred, but neither was he hers. Perhaps they both could find respite within each other’s bodies.

Jon was pushed into her chambers naked as his nameday and she was waiting for him on the bed nude as well. When she tried kissing him her lips were met with chaste pecks that killed the intimacy. He was gentle, but it was clear he took no pleasure in the act. He did not even spend the entire night with her and the motion of him leaving woke her from her slumber.

A fortnight passed, and Jon had not made a visit to her chambers since their wedding night. Instead he seemed to spend every waking moment in the training yard, attending small council meetings with his father or in the library. Jon woke early and went to bed late. She would have been convinced her husband was seeing another woman if it were not for Loras. Her brother had filled Ser Gerold Hightower’s long vacant position on the Kingsguard, bringing the order back to seven knights. Loras was a frequent sparing partner of Jon’s and despite the frustrations she shared with Loras, her brother held the Prince in high esteem.

“Are you sure he does not visit brothels?” Margaery asked.

Loras shook his head. “I can assure you he does not.”

“Well how many times have you drawn duty guarding him?” Margaery pressed.

“Three so far but the other brothers have told me Jon is akin to his father.” Loras answered.

Rhaegar Targaryen was well known for not taking another wife even after the death of his first two. Jon’s mother had died in childbirth and the singers said that the Prince’s heart died with her. There had been no notable paramours, no whispers of whoring and not even whispers that Rhaegar’s proclivities had switched to men. Rhaegar the melancholy. They called him. The name was likely to stick long after his death.

_I will not be called Margaery the undesirable._ The castle’s staff had begun to take notice of Jon’s disinterest and even her grandmother had pulled her aside. _You do know how heirs are made dear?_ Her grandmother asked. _Of course, I do grandmother. It’s just-_ Her grandmother interrupted her. _Use your breast and hips then. The boy is not blind nor does he like boys. Otherwise you could have Loras join you. Entice him, make him yours and make him come to you. Or else this alliance and this marriage means nothing._ Her grandmother scolded.

“Paramours?” Margaery questioned further.

Loras shook his head. “None that I am aware of.”

She did not ask about Daenerys. That one had returned to Dragonstone and it was well known that Daemon had followed her. There was no announcement as of yet, but Margaery was sure a betrothal would soon be announced. _The sooner the better. Once a betrothal is announced she will be inaccessible._ A man with a broken heart was easy to manipulate and these dragons were a possessive bunch as well. Jon was likely to be in pieces, but she would be the one to heal him.

Still, Margaery could not wait for an event that she was unsure to come. Her husband needed to be seduced and it needed to happen soon.

The dress she chose for the occasion was a gift from Arianne Martell. It was more akin to a night gown with a hem of white lace and a dual part that exposed both her thighs. The dress clung tightly across her chest, left her arms and much of her back bare and was held onto her form with a choker that wrapped around her neck.

Her heeled shoes clicked across the floor and Margaery smiled in victory as the guards standing before the door to Jon’s bedchamber brazenly stared at her. It took a few moments for them to meet her eyes.

“Yo…your grace.” One of the men stuttered. The other dropped his head in a hasty bow.

In her boredom Margaery had taken to remembering the names of all the guards who frequented the keep. “Do you like my dress Timos?” She asked the guard to her left.

He nodded shyly which was almost comical for a man of his size

“Success. I hope my husband likes it just as well.” She smiled and made sure her tone was friendly. The guards returned smiles of their own. “Speaking of my husband is he in there?” What she really meant was he in there with someone else.

“Yes. His grace just had a bath drawn.” The right guard answered.

“Perfect.” _Nude and vulnerable._ “Do you mind allowing me through? I wish to pay my husband a visit.”

The guards glanced at each other. This time the left guard spoke. “His grace asked not to be disturbed.” He muttered.

“I mean to _surprise_ him.” Margaery whispered conspiratorially.

The guards glanced at each other again, both racked with indecision.

Margaery knew that the man on the left was relatively new. Recently promoted from the ranks of the common Gold Cloaks to the Castle Guard. She knew he also had a wife who recently birthed twin girls. The other one was a veteran of five years and his eldest boy was sick with summer fever.

“Do not worry boys. I’ll make sure Jon is in good spirits after my surprise. Timos I think the birth of two girls deserves an extra gift of gold. And Desmond I heard your son was sick, did the herbs that Maester Flowers sent help at all? If not, I can send him to your home…”

Bribing the guards was easy. Her first day in the Keep and Margaery had given all the castle staff baskets full of the finest fruits, sweets and baked bread. From then on, she started learning details of the staff through the conversations she had with them. Commoners were generally dreadfully boring with dull lives but those in the Red Keep overheard conversations that determined the fate of the realm. And a lady who did not know her castle staff was no lady at all.

After she stepped in the room, Margaery removed her heels so that she could move in relative silence. Jon’s room was sparse. Largely bare walls with only a single painting of Prince Daeron I’s conquest of Dorne. An armor stand sat in the corner of the room. She recognized Aegon’s armor, the faded three-headed-dragon on the black breast plate was unmistakable. Nearly she sat on the bed to wait for Jon to emerge until she heard the sound of a splash from the bathing chamber followed by a distinctly feminine giggle. Quietly Margaery marched to the connecting wall, heels in hand.

The door was shut but the wall was interspersed with dragons, some with holes for eyes. She peered through one such hole and swallowed a gasp.

Dominating the bathing chamber was a stone basin in the center of the room, built wide enough to sit four. Granite tiles surrounded the basin, done in rich pale pink stone with veins of grey. Seated on the lip of the tub was Princess Daenerys. Her long hair hung loose in wet strands that partially obscured her breast, yet pink nipples poked through the strands. Her belly was flat with discreet lines that hinted at her active lifestyle. One arm was balanced behind her, while the other gripped the head of brown between her splayed thighs.

They were positioned parallel to the wall, so Margaery could see the motion of Jon’s head as he delivered licks to Daenerys’ core. His hands gripped her thighs, holding them open. The sounds he made were lewd, wet and he hummed his approval when Daenerys lifted her buttocks to grind her cunt against his face.

Daenerys released a moan, her hips undulated, and her feet splashed in the water. “You truly cannot get enough of me.”  She said with a smile. Jon moaned his agreement and Margaery saw his hands clench around the princess’s buttocks, dragging her closer to him.

Apparently, her husband was skilled because Daenerys voiced her delights like a whore in heat. Her hand alternated between gripping Jon’s hair roughly and caressing it gently. Margaery watched the princess bite her lip and arch her spine.

“Don’t you dare stop _nephew._ ” Daenerys ordered.

Margaery squeezed her legs together; she was both angry and envious. _The depravity of these Targaryens._ King Rhaegar had ignored his family’s tradition of wedding brother and sister but Margaery had never been so dense as to not considered the women closest to Aegon and now Jon as competition. Cousin to cousin marriages were normal, uniting two branches of the family consolidated power in the main house and even marriages between uncle and niece or aunt and nephew were not unheard of. _But to revel in their shared blood? Sinful. Positively sinful._

Jon pulled away and glanced up at his aunt. The smirk on his slick lips only added to the growing heat between Margaery’s thighs. “I would do this all night if you asked. I love worshipping my _Aunt._ ” And then he proved his point by spearing the princess with his tongue.

“Really?” Daenerys asked with an arched brow and eyes filled with challenge. “How would you worship me?”

“Anyway you would ask. With my lips, with my tongue and my hands. “Jon replied between kisses along her inner thigh and around her core. Margaery could see flashes of silver and she had to admit the downy fur between the woman’s legs looked just as perfect as the rest of her.

“Do not make promises you cannot keep. Will you not be a king one day?” Daenerys questioned. Margaery saw Jon attempt to dive back to Daenerys’ core but the princess’ hands in his hair prevented him from reaching the prize.

Jon looked frustrated. “I keep my promises. Especially those to you.” He answered.

“And if I asked you to kiss my feet like a commoner, would you?” Margaery thought her husband would take offence, but he merely smiled.

He kissed across the princess’ thighs, sinking back into the water while he drew a dainty foot to his mouth. Daenerys squirmed in her seat when Jon first kissed her sole and then drew her big toe into his mouth. Jon spent several moments lavishing the princess’ foot with his tongue. “I keep my promises.” He said.

Daenerys held her other foot in the air in answer. “Do not forget its twin.” She grinned. Jon repeated his actions, massage her feet with careful care while sucking on her toes. Daenerys released a delighted sigh and Margaery could not decide if she wanted to switch places with Daenerys or Jon.

Jon kissed her ankle and then her calf and then back down her thighs. This time Daenerys allowed him to kiss her core.

“Oooh Jon… use your fingers while you eat me.” And when Jon followed her order Daenerys cried like a bitch in heat. The princess did not last long under her husband’s ministrations and she made sure to vocalize her pleasure. “I’m going to cum… don’t stop.” She whined.

“Cum for me my love. I want to taste you. I want to taste my wife.” Jon ordered.

_“Wife?”_ Margaery wondered. Too late she realized the words had left her lips but the cries of Daenerys in the throws of her climax drowned out the whispered words.

Anger rolling through her, Margaery abandoned her viewpoint and made to exit the bedchamber. _Wife?! I am his wife. She is little more than his whore._ She paused before she reached the door. _If I leave now the guards will know something is amiss._ Another thought crossed her mind. _How did she get here? I was not made aware that she was even in the city._

There was another splash behind her and the sound of wet footsteps on the tile. Panicked, Margaery looked for some place to hide. She dashed into the closet with as little noise as possible. There were slits in the wood that allowed her to peer into the bedchamber.  A second later the pair emerged, still dripping.

“Jon.” Daenerys weakly protested as her lover carried her to the bed. Margaery was treated to the sight of both royals. Both were lean and beautiful. Daenerys had slimmer hips than Margaery and smaller breasts as well, though her buttocks was full and round in Jon’s hands. Her husband was more than a head taller than his lover, just an inch or two shorter than Aegon had been with a warrior’s body and scars to match. His cock bobbed impatiently against Daenerys’ buttocks.

He all but threw Daenerys on the bed and the princess laughed as she bounced. “Someone is angry.” Daenerys teased.

“He followed you to Dragonstone.” Jon growled. His back flexed as her crawled-on top of her.

“And?” Daenerys smiled as she laid backwards. Her silver hair formed a crown under her. “Daemon is a Targaryen as well. Dragonstone is as much his home as ours.”

“Dragonstone is _mine, as are you.”_ Jon gripped her hip possessively, holding her still as his other hand positioned his cock to slide into her cunt.

“He tried kissing me you know.” Daenerys words stilled Jon’s hips before he could plunge into her. Jon glared at her and rubbed his cock between her lips in spite. Margaery blessed her vantage point and now in the dark she could be excused for pushing up her dress and playing with her own clit.

“I will kill him.” Jon growled and before Daenerys could answer he slid inside of her. Margaery saw Daenerys legs tighten around his hips before they fell to the side so Jon could sink in deep.

“And start a war?” Daenerys breathed. “You would not.”

“I will.” Jon punctuated his words with a sharp thrust. Daenerys clawed his back in response.

“He is quite skilled of a warrior.” Daenerys goaded. Jon grabbed her hands and pinned both wrists above her head with a single hand of his own. The tempo of his hips increased and with his other arm he pushed the back of Daenerys’ knee so that her thigh nearly touched her chest. The smack of their hips resounded throughout the bedchamber.

“A glorified tourney knight. If he wants you then he will need to match my steel.” Daenerys worked one hand free to grab his buttocks and guide his thrusts.

Apparently too far gone to continue her goading, Daenerys ordered, “Harder… claim me…fuck me…make me yours.”

A sharp gasp left Jon’s lips and he abandoned her hand to grip her other thigh. Daenerys was at his mercy as he practically bent her in half. “Play with yourself. I want you to cum for me.” Jon voiced. His tone was iron.

Daenerys listened, and the princess looked suddenly vulnerable as her fingers played with the nub above her weeping cunt. Margaery matched Daenerys tempo and bit her lip to stifle her gasps.

Jon seemed transfixed on the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her. Margaery could only watch in envy as the two stared at where they connected. The smell of sweat and sex filled the air despite their bath.

“Cum for me auntie.” The mention of their blood relation was enough to send Daenerys over the edge. Margaery followed her, briefly squeezing her eyes shut as her climax rolled through her body. When she opened her eyes a second later, Daenerys' toes were still clenched, and she was bucking her hips.

Jon kissed her tenderly, his hips slowing but never stopping as he guided Daenerys through her climax. When she stilled, Jon rose on his arms, still seated deep inside of her and said, “That is one.”  

“One?” Daenerys asked, surprise coating her voice.

Jon nodded and then he slid from her. “I want you on your hands and knees for your second.”

Margaery could see his cock emerge, slick and erect. _The brothers are truly not so different._

“And just how many do you intend?” Daenerys asked as she turned over.

Jon delivered a slap to her arse. “As many as you will give me.” He answered before pressing his face into her arse.

“Jon!” Daenerys exclaimed. “That’s so dirty!” She said with a blush on her cheeks.

_Is he really?_ Margaery wondered.

“Ssh.. I know you like it Sweetling.” Jon said and then returned to his feast.

Sated yet frustrated, Margaery sank back into the closet. _How many will she give him?_ Margaery wondered. The time for planning would need to come tomorrow, she was stuck in this closet until those two exhausted themselves.  

_And so, the game begins._ Margaery thought before she descended into sleep, the Targaryens had not yet stopped their depravity.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the somewhat abrupt ending. I could have written another 2-3k words of smut along with a lot more plot but this is intended to be a oneshot and it was beginning to balloon into a larger story. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed and as always comments are appreciated.


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